


The Unwritten Rule

by Merzibelle



Series: Semper Fi [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merzibelle/pseuds/Merzibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The immediate aftermath of the bombing of NCIS's headquarters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unwritten Rule

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: NCIS is ©2003-2012 Belisarius Productions. Created by Donald P. Bellisario and Don McGill. Produced by Belisarius Productions in association with Paramount Television (2003–06), CBS Paramount Television (2006–09) and CBS Television Studios (2009–present). No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Warning: Multiple Character Death; Spoilers for NCIS S9x24 "Til Death Do Us Part"

**Semper Fi: The Unwritten Rule**

  
The sound came first, a roar more felt than heard. Fire and debris quickly followed. Finally, an echoing silence almost immediately broken by the screams and moans of the injured and punctuated by the wails of car alarms. Tobias Fornell found himself staring at the asphalt of the parking lot, pinned beneath his senior agent’s body as Ron Sacks took them both to the ground behind the comforting bulk of their agency issued SUV. He took a moment to catch his breath and craned to look over his shoulder at his friend. A reassuring nod answered him. He started issuing orders before they’d even considered standing up.  
  
“Call Quantico. Tell them there’s been an explosion at the Yard. Have them send the SRT up. Call ATF. Get their NRT sent over. Call Bethesda and GWH and get put them on standby.” Fornell shoved himself to his feet and pulled out his own cell phone. “I’ll call Hoover and brief the Director.”   
  
It was only as he dialed that he allowed himself to even gaze at the building. The facade had crumbled and collapsed over the entrance. Piles of debris ringed the entrance and lay scattered around the parking area. Bodies – alive and not – lay everywhere between him and the building. A gaping hole partially filled with debris and the smoldering chassis of a car pinpointed the source of the explosion.  
  
“Jesus.” Sacks breathed the word beside him. “It’s worse than...”  
  
His second in command’s words were cut off as another explosion, smaller but no less noisy, ripped through the Yard. They looked at each other with resignation in their eyes. It would be a miracle if anyone survived unscathed. Their friends, and for all their ongoing animosity they were friends, had likely been in the thick of it. And thus, the first casualties.  
  
“Ammunition.” Fornell spoke the word flatly. He had no idea how much ammunition NCIS stored in the building but until that was handled there was no way to start a rescue and recovery effort. He could hear the bullets popping and exploding from heat which told him at least some parts of the interior were burning. He shook himself once hard, forcing away thoughts of Gibbs’s team, and dialed his phone. This was one call he didn’t want to make at all. “Director, there’s a situation...”  
  
Those five minutes on the phone to the Hoover building turned out to be the calmest portion of his day. As the ranking member of Homeland Security on site, Fornell ended up in charge of the whole mess – coordinating rescue and recovery efforts, dealing with the press, fielding calls from relatives, and all the forensics. There were only two things he was thankful of related to being in charge. He didn’t have to take part in the search and, thanks to the FBI’s Press Office, didn’t have to talk to the press directly either. Time passed in a blur of calls, reports, and coordination.  
  
“Tobias!”  
  
Fornell looked up from the blueprints of the building in response to the yell. It took him a moment to focus against the glare of the sun. Finally, he saw Sacks waving to him from the far side of the parking lot where a staging area had been set up for the ambulances. He nodded to Pamela, Vance’s assistant having volunteered to aid him in coordinating the efforts, and started off in response to the call. “Sacks?”  
  
His second didn’t respond just nodded to the stretcher between them. There was something in Sacks’s eyes which worried him; however, Fornell pushed the worry aside and looked down. Stark against the sheets lay the bruised and bloody body of Leon Vance. Immediately, Fornell crouched beside the stretcher. He waved a hand to acknowledge the EMTs worries about the delay and allowed Vance to grab his own hand.  
  
“My people...”  
  
“I’ll take care of them.” Fornell hastened to reassure the other man. He could feel the weakness in the usually sure grip. “I’ll call...”  
  
“McGee...” A harsh cough escaped Vance. Blood stained his lips. Bright against the graying of his skin. He panted for breath afterwards. “McGee was in still in the bullpen... Downloading files... when I got to the stairwell...”  
  
“I’ll find him.”  
  
“Best we got... his team too...” Another cough. An interruption from the EMTs. Fornell didn’t need them to speak to know Vance needed to go. “MCRT... need’em... Gibbs in charge when found...”  
  
“Done.” Fornell patted Vance’s hand then released it and laid it on the stretcher. He rose to his feet, absently accepting a tattered bit of cloth from Sacks to wipe his hands, and watched as they loaded Vance into an ambulance which took off in a blare of sirens. He turned to his second. “Bad?”  
  
“They don’t expect him to make it.” Sacks nodded once to punctuate the statement. “I sent Agent Balboa over to speak to his wife.”  
  
“Where?” Fornell turned to look back at the ruin of the building. He cleared his throat. Then tried again. “Where was he found?”  
  
“Base of the rear stairwell. Half buried next to a dropped elevator.” A soft snort came from Sacks. “The irony of this is if it wasn’t for the yells from inside the elevator, we’d not have found Vance.”  
  
“Some fool got in the elevator with a known bomb threat going on?”  
  
“Yeah.” Sacks shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it myself. They’ve cleared the easily located remains from the stairwell. Aside from the two people in the elevator there’s no sign of anyone alive beneath the remaining rubble there so they’re going to get them out then continue the search in that rubble.”  
  
“Who?” Fornell rubbed his face. He couldn’t believe someone would climb into an elevator during an evacuation. “Who’s the idiots?”  
  
“DiNozzo and David.”  
  
“What!”   
  
“What I said.” Sacks shook his head with a bitter laugh. He drank deep of the water bottle in his hand before pouring some on a scrap of cloth. He rubbed that along his neck then dumped the last over his head to cool off. “DiNozzo’s conscious but has a broken leg. David’s out. She’s the one to worry about. He’s reported that she shoved him to the floor as the elevator dropped. Some of the equipment above – likely the braking mechanism – dropped inside and hit her.”  
  
“Dammit. I was counting on them to help.” Fornell sighed and wrote those two off. Even if they’d not been injured or only one was, they wouldn’t leave each other. “Any word on Gibbs or Abby? I learned that Palmer’s on his way back from his wedding in Florida. Ducky was there but is now in the hospital; Palmer’s bride is staying with him. Palmer’s acting chief medical examiner when he arrives.”  
  
“Gibbs was last seen running into Abby’s lab just before the explosion.” Sacks ducked his head slightly. Neither man needed to know more than that. It’d taken only minutes after their initial survey to realize the worse damage to the building was centered directly in front of and above Abby’s lab. All they could do there was hope for the best – that if they were alive, they were uninjured but if not, that it had at least been quick and painless. “You just heard about McGee.”  
  
“Yeah.” Fornell accepted a cup of coffee from Pamela and gave her a tired smile. She returned it before returning to the makeshift command post. “Of all the MCRT, we need McGee the most.”  
  


* * *

Timothy McGee snatched the flash drive out of his computer and grabbed his pack. He knew he was cutting it fine. If he made it out before the explosion, he’d likely be caught by it as he exited. His mind raced even as he ran for the front of the building. He had a moment to see a flash from outside even as the blast wave began its roll up and through the building. Tim closed his eyes to protect them as the explosive wave shattered the windows and threw him backwards. He slammed down hard on his left side. He wanted to scream, but he bit his lip hard to contain the urge. He knew the next thing to strike would be the fireball generated by the gasoline in the SUV’s tank exploding. Despite the pain he was in, Tim curled his legs up, tucked his head down by his knees and wrapped one arm over his head.   
  
Glass shattered, falling like rain over his body. Heat followed, roaring through the room. McGee held his breath though his lungs were burning with the strain. He knew – though he hated the knowledge – that the fireball which swept through the bullpen pulled all the oxygen out with it on it as it tore out the skylight. He waited, counting the seconds, and listened intently. He’d barely reached five when a roar of sound engulfed him. He wondered if he was still alive as his pain neither ended nor increased. Just when he thought he’d pass out from not breathing, the combination of sounds and movement he’d been hoping for appeared. Tim drew in a deep breath and let it out with a hiss of pain.   
  
That answered one question. He was still alive. He slowly flexed each muscle group in his body beginning with his toes and working up. There was pain in his left hip and thigh but not enough to say he broke either. His ribs screamed with every breath he took; however, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d worked with broken or bruised ribs. Nothing else hurt. Tim breathed a sigh of relief. He slowly uncurled from his defensive ball in order to sit up. He needed to see just how badly damaged the building was in order to determine his options from here.  
  
First, the glare against his eyes made his head throb. A quick dig through his backpack produced his sunglasses. He slipped those on. That eased some of that pain. He added a note to his mental injury list. The explosive flash may have done some damage to his optic nerves; he’d have it looked at later. He scooted the few feet across the glass strewn floor to Gibbs’s still standing desk. His own was blown over and buried under several large pieces of glass. His mathematically trained mind memorized the information for any future computer modeling of the explosion. His angled desk pushed back but Gibbs – perpendicular to the windows – unscathed. The information would help calculate the yield of the bomb. He rested his back against the front of the desk gathering himself and then used the desk as leverage to get to his feet. His body protested but stood firm.  
  
Now he could see the damage to the building. To say it was bad was an understatement. Not as bad as the Pentagon on 911 but definitely on par with Oklahoma City. The skylight gone – a shattered ruin glittering like ice chips around the main portion of the bullpen – along with much of the front facade between the two elevator shafts. A large chunk of the floor had dropped away along the front of the building. The blinking red emergency lights still functioned though the sun provided much more light to see by.  
  
Tim turned in a slow circle. He could see one or two people sprawled across the floor on the far side of the room near the main stairs though from the lack of movement he suspected they were dead. The two people he’d seen closest to the windows were gone just as that portion of the building was; they too were likely dead and now buried in the debris outside. He neither saw nor heard anyone else nearby though that didn’t mean there weren’t others trapped in the building with him. Tim debated his options. The main stairs were out. Too far away from him. He also wasn’t certain he trusted the floor between him and the stairs. As he completed his turn, his gaze caught on the door to MTAC.   
  
Multiple Threat Assessment Center. His mind focused intently on the room. It was secure. It was actually the most secure portion of the building. Originally built to withstand standard attacks, but additions were made after 911 in case of dirty bombs or other terroristic threats. This was definitely one of those. Odds were in favor of that room being in near perfect shape. Given the choice of chancing going down the stairs, waiting where he was for rescue, or going to a safe, secure spot, well, Admiral McGee had not raised an idiot. He was heading for the secure high ground.  
  
Slowly, steadily, McGee worked his way across the bullpen. He leaned heavily against the back wall of the building for as long as he possibly could until forced to move away from it to get to the stairs. He glared at the staircase. The base of the stairs was buried in blown rubble. A frown settled on his face as he tossed his backpack over his shoulders. His ribs screamed. He groaned in pain, yet he did what was necessary.   
  
“This is war, Timothy! You can suffer later!” He lectured himself as he reached up and grabbed a section of the stair rail. He pulled himself up and clambered onto the staircase. He rested a moment then dragged himself up the steps. “Have to remember to thank Dad for all those training scenarios.”  
  
At the top of the stairs, he swung around toward the entrance to MTAC. He froze at the sight of a woman slumped against the edge of the doorframe. For the longest moment, he worried that he’d have to move a corpse to get into the room. Then she groaned and shifted. Another relieved sigh escaped him. With renewed energy, McGee crossed the mezzanine to lean against the wall. He smiled down at the woman as she looked up at him. “Laurel?”  
  
“McGee?”  
  
“Yeah.” He nodded toward the door. “MTAC?”  
  
“Empty. I was the last...” She levered herself up the same way he had by using the door behind her. “Trying to...”  
  
“Save the files.” Tim finished for her. Their eyes met in perfect geek understanding. Only another hardcore hacker would understand the desperate need to save the most recent information on the systems as it wouldn’t have been automatically saved to the offsite servers yet. “Let’s get inside.”  
  
McGee didn’t wait for her to open the door. Instead, he flipped his watch over and waved the back in front of the scanner. A click followed. He pulled the door open and held it for Laurel.   
  
“You’re not supposed to know how to do that.”  
  
“Going to turn me in?” He grinned over at her. She patted his shoulder as she ducked beneath his arm. “Well?”  
  
“Who do you think erased all the traces of your first attempts?”  
  
“I wondered.” Tim followed her in and let the door swing shut behind them. MTAC was darker than usual with only the barest minimum of lighting. He was familiar enough with the space to navigate his way down to the main level despite the lack of light. He tripped as he stepped off the ramp, cursing, only to groan as Laurel reached up and pulled his sunglasses off. “What have we got?”  
  
She sat at her station. Switches were flipped. He sat beside her and started surveying things himself. Silence reigned as they checked data streams and power levels. Her soft whoop of joy echoed in the room. “Everything. The backup generators weren’t damaged.”  
  
“Start pulling up any internal cameras you can... and call whoever you need to, tell’em your safe.” McGee ordered even as he grabbed another phone for himself. These lines, in MTAC, routed separately from the land lines via a variety of satellites. Thus, he was able to start calling his team without getting caught up in the landline and cell tower overload related to the explosion. All the calls went directly to voice mail. This was not the time to ignore rule three. He muttered curses as he tried Vance’s direct number. If he couldn’t get Gibbs, he’d try the director. It too had no answer. McGee cursed creatively in two and a half languages before slamming a hand down and hunting up another phone number.  
  


* * *

The sound of his phone ringing dragged Fornell out of the depressive spiral his thoughts were in. He waved an acknowledging hand at Sacks as the other man started away to rejoin the S&R team he was working with. Fornell flipped the phone open, snapping, “Yeah... what?”  
  
 _“Fornell?”_  
  
It took a moment for him to recognize the voice. It was laced with pain but calm. So familiar from other calls that he could only pull his phone away and stare at it in shock.   
  
 _“Fornell... are you there?”  
_  
“McGee?” His shock caused him to squeak as he spoke. The sound caught Sacks attention. His second swung back toward him. Fornell’s own surprise and shock reflected on the other agent’s face. “Where the hell are you, kid?”  
  
 _“MTAC.”_  The was a pause. A few soft, muffled curses echoed through the phone before McGee spoke directly to him again.  _“God, Fornell, this is...”  
_  
“Yeah, I know, kid.” He paused for a moment. There was pain and shock in McGee’s voice yet he was surprisingly steady as well. Fornell debated his options before resorting to Gibbs-like tactics. “Report!”  
  
He could almost hear McGee’s back straightening over the connection. His voice, when it finally came again, was very calm and steady. Fornell knew he’d done the right thing. He’d given the kid something to focus on; however, even he didn’t expect to learn what he did when McGee began to talk.  
  
 _“MTAC is secure with full generator power. We have secure communications, computer and CCTV access. The fans are working so the air isn’t contaminated. Laurel and I can direct some S &R efforts from here by searching the building for bodies and survivors with the remaining undamaged cameras.”_ There was a pause. It sounded like a woman was speaking to McGee. Whatever she said, a muffled ‘yes’ echoed from Gibbs’s youngest agent. _“All the files on Dearing are secure. We’re processing that information now between searches inside the building. Laurel thinks we can have a firm location for you within the half hour. He is in DC though so you might want to set up roadblocks. I don’t think – based on previous experiences with him – that he’ll leave the city limits. He’ll want to see what he’s done.”  
_  
“Damn, McGee...” Fornell trailed off in surprise at everything the kid had done and was willing to do for them.  
  
 _“Agent Fornell?”_  
  
“After that, you can call me Tobias, kid.” Fornell chuckled lightly. “What do you need from me?”  
  
 _“Someone to relay information to the S &R teams for a start.” _A laugh echoed through the phone. Fornell wanted to ask but refrained.  _“Some drinks would be nice too. There’s no direct access up to MTAC or the bullpen. The cameras along the front of the building are down. Likely from the blast wave or the collapse. The rear cameras are working.”_  
  
There was a lengthy pause. Fornell started to worry that despite the reassurances things weren’t as well off in the secure room as they’d been told. He could see his own worry etched in Sacks’s face. They alternated staring at each other with staring at the phone in Fornell’s hand. His shift of the call to speaker mode had brought them an attentive yet equally worried audience of first responders. Everyone stood silent waiting on McGee to speak again.  
  
 _“Tobias...”_  His name was tentative, shaky. As if McGee wasn’t certain what to say. Another pause followed. _“Hell. I don’t think I want your view of this mess. It’s likely worse than ours.”_  A deep breath echoed through the phone. _“Hold on a second... we’re switching this over to the headset so I can work and talk. You okay to stay on this line or do we need to switch to another?”  
_  
“This is good. You talk to me, McGee. I have Sacks and several other willing bodies listening to relay to teams by radio.”  
  
 _“Tim.”_ McGee absently corrected him. Fornell glanced around and sat on a bit of rubble in the shade of an undamaged tree.  _“All right. Let’s get to work.”_ There was silence. Typing echoed down the line before a small growl escaped McGee.  _“Not the best angle but yeah. Do you... that’s Morse... yup... Tobias, there’s someone in the rear elevator by the stairwell. There’s a reasonable clear path to them. Looks like one of the S &R teams has been working there already...”  
_  
“Yeah, we know, Tim.” He snorted softly. He owed the kid the courtesy of using his name. Fornell was certain he was listening to a future director even if it would likely be years before the kid got the job especially now that SecNav had joined the listeners. “That’s DiNozzo and David. We have a team headed back for them now.”  
  
 _“What the hell were they doing in the elevator in an evac situation?”_  
  
“A couple of the walking wounded have said that they were going floor by floor to clear the building. They may have gotten in the elevator as the bomb went off.”  
  
 _“That almost makes sense. When they reinforced MTAC they did that elevator too.”_  McGee fell silent again. More typing echoed through the line. A cough followed by a barely audible ‘I’m fine’ also came through before McGee started rattling off details.  _“You ready, Tobias? I’ve got people for you to get to...”_  
  


* * *

Time passed quickly in MTAC. The next several hours would always remain a bit of a blur to Tim. The information relay via Fornell kept a steady stream of rescuers moving in and out of the building, finding the living and marking the bodies of the dead for later retrieval. The first team to the bullpen level continued up to bring him and Laurel food and water while a Corpsman checked them both over. With his ribs wrapped and water to drink, Tim wasn’t about to leave when so many people depended on him.   
  
The work also kept him distracted from the lack of knowledge about his teammates. Oh, he knew about Tony and Ziva’s rescue even if he didn’t know their current conditions. Tony had even taken a moment when they’d helped him out of the elevator to wave at a camera before being helped out after the stretcher carrying Ziva. Only his intent listening to the open line allowed him to learn about the Director as Fornell reported information to SecNav. He’d taken a moment to murmur a prayer for the Vance and Ziva before continuing his work. All the while, one part of his mind gibbered in fear for Abby and Gibbs. No one had yet heard from either of them.  
  
Laurel worked the cameras. Her usual surveillance work allowed her to better manipulate the in-house system. The programs used by MTAC to recognize suspects were easy to tweak so they could direct the teams to the living rather than the dead. While she worked that angle, Tim digested every bit of information they had on Dearing. He ran numbers. He worked the files. He ran audio through scanners and tracked calls. It was the last which caused him to leap to his feet with a shout which was equal parts pain and elation. “I’ve got you, you bastard!”  
  
“What?” The word echoed around him, the chorus of voices penetrating his joy. He recognized only three of them: Tobias, Laurel, and Jarvis. The SecNav continued to question as the echoes died away.  _“Agent McGee?”  
_  
“Sorry, sir.” He paused for a moment to sip at his water. It was warm but wet. It would do. He went back to typing on the computers. His fingers flew over the keys as he hacked into the Yard’s own security system. He ignored his companion’s stare and both Jarvis and Tobias’s demands for answers while he confirmed his suspicions. He switched cameras rapidly until he found just the one he needed. A slow evil smile curved his lips. Tim reached across the desk and grabbed the phone. Opening another line, he dialed and waited for the call to pick up.  
  
“Ned... do not react.” He waited a moment for Dorneget to listen. “I want only yes or no answers. Now, you have your gun and handcuffs right?”  
  
 _“Yes, sir.”  
_  
“Good man.” Tim watched the camera feeds closely. “Slowly, discretely, use one hand to draw the gun. Keep it under your coat.”  
  
 _“Yes, sir.”_  
  
Tim heard the confusion in the probationary agent’s voice but ignored it. He waited until Ned had the gun free and in his hand to give his next order. “Turn to your left. See that bench just peeking out behind the bushes beneath the tree.”  
  
 _“No... I... Yes, sir. Now I do.”_  
  
“I want you to walk toward it. As soon as you clear the bushes, drop the phone and arrest the man on the bench. Do not let him move.” Tim made each order distinct. “If he moves in any way, shoot him. Shoot to injure not kill. We want that bastard...”  
  
 _“Is that...?”_  
  
“Yes.” Tim cut Ned off before he could speak Dearing’s name. “Handcuff him. Backup is already discreetly coming.”  
  
 _“Done, sir.”_  
  
Tim watched Ned. For a man who would forget his gun or his handcuffs and seemed the most bumbling agent ever to walk through the bullpen, and Tim was counting himself in that number, Ned excelled at this little exercise. He rose to his feet and paced back and forth a bit in place before walking down to the end of the bushes. Contrary to Tim’s instructions, Ned tossed the phone – hard apparently – at Dearing’s head before handcuffing the bastard. Several other agents arrived at a run as Ned started reading the man his rights. Tim breathed a sigh and hung up that line. He turned his attention back to Tobias and Jarvis.  
  
“My apologies, sir, Tobias.”  
  
 _“No need, Agent McGee. We heard. I’ve sent Agent Fornell over to supervise the detainment.”_  
  
“Sir?”  
  
 _“Not to worry, Agent McGee.”_  There was pride in Jarvis’s voice. It wasn’t something Tim had ever heard from SecNav. The man usually sounded like he could barely tolerate anyone at NCIS other than Vance.  _“I heard everything. I expect a formal report when the rescue efforts are completed. I’m going to give the phone to the just returned Agent Balboa. He can assist you.”  
_  
“Yes, sir.” Tim waited through the transfer and the sound of Jarvis leaving. Through the line he heard a door close. Only then did he ask the question he dreaded the answer too. Well, one of the questions. “Balboa? If you’re back, I can assume...”  
  
 _“Yeah. An hour ago.”_  
  
“Damn.” Tim bowed his head and took several deep breaths to steady himself. “All right. We still have a few people to rescue and a lot of bodies to recover.”  
  
 _“We’re ready.”_ Balboa paused for a moment.  _“McGee... you find Gibbs?”_  
  
“Not yet. We’re working our way down to the basement. We know he headed for Abby’s lab. The cameras down there have the most damage.” Tim paused and swallowed back a sob. “Honestly, I don’t expect to find either of them alive.”  
  


* * *

It was another hour before Tim felt they’d cleared the upper floors of the living. He took a deep breath. A hand rested briefly on his shoulder. He reached up and covered it with his own. The hand tightened. He squeezed back. A bond had formed between him and Laurel as they’d worked these long lonely hours in MTAC. Night was falling. Heavy lighting rigs had been brought in to help illuminate the scene. Balboa had even sent them pizza and sodas. Now they were down to the final floor to search. With Palmer’s return from Florida, they’d received confirmation that the autopsy level was empty even of bodies to be examined, so they only had to scan the forensics labs. Tim just could not give the order to begin.  
  
“Where do you want to start, Tim?”  
  
The softly spoken words pulled him out of his thoughts and back to the present. He glanced sidelong at Laurel. He smiled faintly at her in thanks and received an equally faint smile in return. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly with a soft hiss of pain. “Let’s start at the elevator. Test the signal to each camera heading back towards ballistics. Hopefully we’ll get something back.”  
  
“We’ll find them.”  
  
“I know.” Unspoken and unacknowledged lingered the question – would they find them alive? “I know we will.”  
  
They set to work. Frustration built with each failed query as camera after camera failed to respond to their signals. From the elevator entrance to the camera in the principal lab, not a one gave them a response. Tim dutifully reported the lack of information to Balboa. He could hear the other man’s frustration building with each denial from him. Finally, one of the camera’s responded. A soft yes escaped from Laurel. She put the image feed on the main screen before he could even ask.   
  
“It’s not the best, Tim.” She typed more. He knew she was trying to boost the signal. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologize. It’s a sign of weakness.” Tim absently repeated Gibbs rule as he rose to inspect the image on the screen. He tried to determine which camera he was looking at from the angle since everything was a jumbled tangle of debris. “Ballistics?”   
  
“Abby’s office.”  
  
“Ah. She’s going to hate the mess.” Tim stepped closer to the screen. He squinted at the image, trying and failing to recognize anything, and sighed. “Dammit.”  
  
 _“McGee?”  
_  
“I’m here.” Tim continued to stare at the screen. He wondered if his glare would get the camera to cooperate for him. “We’ve got one camera working down there. It’s in Abby’s office. All the rest are down.”  
  
 _“How bad?”_  
  
“Bad.” Tim swallowed and blindly reached for his water bottle. Laurel handed it to him with another barely there smile. “Really bad. I think some of the steel girders collapsed along with the facade. I’m certain I see at least one.”  
  
 _“Well, shit. If they collapsed then the Corps won’t let us go down there without proof of life.”_  
  
“I know.” The Captain of the Corp of Engineer’s team had already privately told him no one was going in the basement or subbasement until the building was shored up unless there was proof of a live victim. The search dogs found nothing but they’d also been confused by the chemical smells coming up from the lab and the lingering odors from autopsy. He might be a Navy brat, but he’d worked with Gibbs for too long for the Marine motto of not leaving a man behind not to have leached into him. Tim growled softly as he stepped closer to the screen. “I know, Balboa.”  
  
Tim reached out and traced the twisted lines on the screen. He hoped that by doing so he’d make sense of the mess in front of him. He tilted his head to one side as he followed the line of the one recognizable girder up from the bottom of the image to where it rested on the top of the refrigerator Abby used to store samples. Something shifted in the dark and grainy image. At first he thought it was more debris settling but the movement was slow and consistent. “Laurel?”  
  
“I see it.” He heard her typing behind him. The image fuzzed out as she tried to refocus the camera on just that spot. A hollowed out cavity formed by the girder and refrigerator combination and topped with a concrete slab from the floor above. “Not the best but all I can give you, Tim.”  
  
It was enough to bring tears to his eyes and a sob to catch in his throat. The movement he’d seen was now recognizable as a hand stroking a very still body. The hand was attached to an arm whose body was hidden beneath the one on top. Tim’s first thought was that Gibbs had sheltered Abby from the blast and died during it but when that hand moved again he had his answers. It took everything he had to report to Balboa. “I found them.”  
  
 _“McGee... Tim...?”_  
  
“It’s bad.” Tim answered the unspoken questions as calmly as he could manage around his tears. He watched the image, watched as that arm moved again, and recognized the now battered watch wrapped around the wrist. “Gibbs is alive... likely badly injured but alive.”  
  
 _“And Abby?”_  
  
“Abby...” Tim broke off with a gulp of air which came out as a broken sob. “I don’t think Abby made it. She’s on top of Gibbs. All I see of him is his arm stroking her back. She’s very still. Too still.”  
  
 _“Fuck.”_  
  
“My sentiments exactly.” Tim shuddered and took several steadying breaths. An arm wrapped around his waist while a head rested against the back of his shoulder. There was nothing suggestive in the hug. Just an attempt to comfort. Tim covered Laurel’s hand with his own where it rested on his stomach and squeezed her fingers in silent reassurance. “I can’t confirm anything but from the look of things. They’d gone to the floor during the initial blast. Gibbs likely did that and may have been hurt from the blast. Abby appears to have covered him during the collapse.”  
  
 _“All right.”_ Balboa’s voice shook as much as Tim’s did as he responded. Tim had known all along that the potential loss of the irrepressible Abby would be as devastating a blow to NCIS as the death of the Director. A full minute passed with only the unsteady breathing of both men to confirm the line was still open.  _“I’ve got a couple engineers and Palmer here now. Can you tell them roughly where Gibbs and Abby are?”_  
  
Tim took another steady breath before answering. He nodded first then let a bitter laugh escape him. “Yeah.... yeah, I can.” He gazed at the screen while mentally comparing the images before his eyes with his memories of Abby’s lab. Finally, he had a reasonable idea as to where they were in the room. “Assuming it’s reasonably clear of debris, your best access to them is through the middle room of the lab. The one Abby used as an office. There’s a window there that appears to be letting in some light near the camera housing.”  
  
 _“Where is she, Tim?”_  
  
Jimmy... he didn’t expect to hear Jimmy and the steady calm tone in the autopsy gremlin’s voice shook Tim’s already precarious control. He knew his own voice wavered as he replied to the other man. “In front of the lab refrigerator just inches from the door to her office. I’d say a couple feet at most.”  
  
 _“Can you tell if that door is open?”_  
  
“It is.” Through the open line, he could hear people scrambling for radios and equipment. A door opened and closed several times. “Jimmy!”  
  
 _“I’ll take care of her, Tim.”_  
  
Silence resumed. He stared at the video screen until his eyes burned from the strain. He closed them tight but the image lingered against his closed eyes. Tim knew the image of Gibbs stroking Abby’s back amongst the debris would linger in his nightmares for a very long time if not for the rest of his life. Still, he opened his eyes to watch the screen again.  
  
 _“Tim?”_  
  
“Balboa?”  
  
 _“I’m sending a couple of people up to lead you and Laurel out of the building.”_  
  
“I can’t...” Tim’s protest was automatic. He couldn’t leave yet. Not until he knew Gibbs was out of the building. “I can’t leave yet.”  
  
 _“You’ve done enough. I’m ordering you...”_  
  
Tim didn’t listen to the rest of Balboa’s words. He pulled the headset off and threw it toward the floor. Automatically, he gestured for the line to be cut as he could still hear Balboa speaking to him. He was shocked when a soft click echoed through the room. He half-turned to look at Laurel who smirked back at him.  
  
“I better get the practice in now, sir.”  
  
“Wha...?” Tim stared at her in disbelief before returning his attention to the main screen again. “And don’t call me sir.”  
  
“If you don’t know what you’ve done today, Tim.” She returned to stand beside him. “Then I’m not telling you. We wait then?”  
  
“Never leave a man behind.” Tim agreed with a nod. They settled into the MTAC chairs and watched the screen. Every so often one or the other would reach out and clasp a hand or wrist to reassure themselves they were still alive and not alone. The silent images taunted them as they watched the level of light slowly increase before one then two people dropped into the room. They surveyed the area and shored up the sagging ceiling with passed in wood and jacks before letting a familiar figure climb down into the area before the camera. Tim breathed a sigh before jumping in surprise as pounding echoed from the MTAC entrance. A soft cry of pain escaped him as Laurel rose to answer the door.  
  
“Time to go.”   
  
The order came from the man at the door. From the corner of his eye, Tim could see Laurel gathering her purse from the station she’d used and starting to shut things down. Yet Tim couldn’t move, didn’t dare move until he was certain that Gibbs was being rescued. As he stared at the screen, Jimmy looked up at the camera. He waved a hand before flashing one finger followed by a thumbs up and a second finger with a thumbs down. It was the confirmation Tim needed. He nodded to Laurel and rose unsteadily to his feet. “Shut it down. Now we can go.”  
  


* * *

Tobias Fornell stood slightly in front of Sacks and SecNav Jarvis. Agent Balboa stood slightly behind them with Pamela beside him. They were the forefront of the waiting audience. All of them intently watched the building. Word had spread that not only had Gibbs been discovered alive but that McGee was finally leaving the building now that the final survivors were being rescued. Tobias wondered if the kid had any clue of the true extent of what he’d achieved today.  
  
Movement from the rear stairwell caught Tobias’s attention. The same stairwell which claimed the lives of Director Vance and half a dozen members of NCIS’s legal department now allowed two Marine corpsman to lead McGee and a woman out of the building. A ripple of sound arose as people began to recognize Gibbs’s youngest agent. He climbed down the last of the rubble separating him from the parking lot then turned back to help his companion over that same rubble pile.  
  
Fornell watched closely as McGee slowly crossed the parking lot toward him. It was easy to see the pain and exhaustion swamping the young man. He wondered if he’d make it home or, more likely, to the hospital before collapsing. Softly at first, then increasing in volume a cheer arose for McGee. Applause followed, led by Jarvis. Fornell barely refrained from chuckling as McGee ducked his head in embarrassment. It still amazed him just how modest the young man was; not many people could have done what he’d done today. Knowing McGee as he did, he fully expected the kid to brush away any praise.  
  
“Agent McGee,” Secretary Jarvis began as McGee stopped in front of the group. “You’ve gone beyond what any agent could have been expected to do. Expect a commendation in your file soon.” He clapped a hand on McGee’s shoulder. Fornell was certain he was the only one who noticed McGee’s flinch in response. “Bring me your report by the end of the day tomorrow at the Pentagon.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” McGee’s voice echoed with exhaustion. “But I only did what I was trained to do.”  
  
A laugh escaped Jarvis. Fornell just shook his head at McGee. With another clap to McGee’s shoulder, inducing another well-hidden flinch, Jarvis resumed his inspection of the site. Balboa, Pamela, and Sacks all congratulated McGee. Fornell patiently waited for them to speak to the kid before approaching himself. “Tim... Kid... you...”  
  
“Please, don’t.” Tim stopped his words with an upraised hand. He turned back toward the building. Fornell followed his gaze toward the frantic efforts going on closest to the epicenter of the explosion. Only when a soft cheer escaped the group working there did Tim turn back to him. “Tobias, I...”  
  
Before Fornell could answer, a softly cleared throat broke into the conversation. Fornell, McGee and McGee’s companion all turned in the direction of the sound. The Commandant of the Marine Corps stood there with his personal protection detail surrounding him. Fornell watched, shocked, as McGee straightened to his full height and nodded to the man. Only the tight clench of his jaw and the lines around his eyes showed any of the pain the move likely generated.  
  
“You can stand down, Marine.” Compassion laced the Commandant’s words. Fornell blinked at the accolade. It was as if this man, who’d never personally met McGee, knew exactly what to say to him. Orders echoed around them; Marines marched into a variety of positions and were being briefed by various exhausted civilians. “I have the watch now.”


End file.
